Solent Waffle

Now the Solent

Well here I am back in the Solent for a few weeks, hanging on the back stay, teaching and enjoying the back to basics approach of the RYA syllabus. I was completing a course over a weekend with an unlikely crew of an Italian lady and her Irish long term boyfriend coupled with a Welsh speaking Welshman who I was able to sing in harmony with, we were word perfect on the welsh lullaby “Counting the Goats”in welsh of course, good fun.

I found myself writing one morning the following entry in my journal;

“today the 20^th of August the date reminds me that I should be boarding the British Airways flight from Antigua to Gatwick but here I am already back in the UK working, I have another flight booked back from Antigua on the 5^th of November I doubt if I will use that one either. These flights are of course are the product of not having reasonably priced one way tickets available on major airlines, I fly out and sail a boat back….another piece of useless information!!

I am today on one of Sailing company's tired boats passing on my experience to a few novices, well sailing novices, for in life we share the equilibrium of our individual experience: scratch the surface of anyone and there is a mine and mind of carefully recorded and stored knowledge and skill, sometimes blemished by arrogance and ego but mostly kind and thoughtful.

Today the old boat Ice Dancer holds in her belly, an I.T. specialist turned maths teacher with a soft Irish brogue and ready smile, who can tie a bowline as good as any, which belies his claim to have only done a bit if sailing. His name escapes me again “why is it I can share intimate moments and conversation with someone then fail to remember their names” is senile dementia that close? Yesterday I forgot my writer friend Theo Dorgan’s name, how dare my fickle memory draw down the curtain on me at a young as I feel time of life, dam it!!

Then we have an Italian Angel the Irishman’s 10 year girlfriend who is so very wonderful, funny, gregarious, bright and wobbly warm. This wonderfully accented lady is something in health care, I forget what she said and care less, suffice it to say she drives a posh Mercedes and laughs a lot.

Next we have an ex naval reservist ex RAF guy who is Welsh speaking and can sing with me in tight harmony, such a pleasure to sing counting the goats in welsh word perfect and so very tuneful.

What is it in life that throws these diverse characters together for these cameos of pleasure, often undeserved and unexpected. The owner of the Sailing  company fear that theses folk may not enjoy their time aboard because of their earlier inexperienced mistakes by other instructors is unfounded. We together are always human and happy, we are both doctor and patient, teacher and student, truthful and exaggerator, but as in most things kind and cheerful.

Life for me is good, today I have the choice to be happy or miserable. For me that can be a painful choice because my natural habitat is to sadness. However a sober life gives me the opportunity to choose between these tired emotions. The normal state for me as an alcoholic was drunk or anxious, today I am sometimes careless and less concerned. If I wake today with the aura of sad dreams then so be it, the answer is exercise and positive thought, this brings transient relief sometimes, but mostly is the harbinger of a better day.
I wake today, shake off the cloak of sleep and short dreams, I put aside past pains and wrongs both imagined and real to embrace the start of another wonderful day for this is heaven and a little glimpse of hell wrapped up as life. So very, very good to wake and feel alive to the day.

I have been asked to write of past pain and the violent times why? Is it to titillate the pallet of those who only think they have faced danger, I am one of life’s cowards who will one day answer this call but not yet.

Not withstanding the above, recently I was asked what I thought of the men of violence, in particular in relation to the Bin Laden execution.

I find myself dwelling on the past, (or is it growth) because this is what I feel.

Reluctant hero's
My experience dictates

These moments of violence are often short, bloody and unlike the OK Corral they are seldom conducted with gentlemanly consideration for the opposition. Rules of engagement are encapsulated in the phrase “win the fire fight” the rest speaks for itself.

These moments are often short and bloody, the noise and controlled confusion pervades everything.

So much crap talked these days of Special Forces and stealth, but take it from me they always culminate in blood, noise and pain.

People of all creeds and nationalities who now sleep quietly in their beds but talk glibly of soldiers as criminals, should accept that their freedom and peaceful sleep was always bought by the raw guts of these men and women.

These men are not super heroes; they are soft at their core, loving with strangers and children alike. These men always need to return slowly to bliss and peace, but seldom without the suntan and the physical and mental scars that follow these actions.

Believe me these silent soldiers given a choice would rather dig the garden and plant the seeds of flowers.

Do not question these men just be thankful they are they are there!

Sleep easy

Over the past years I have encouraged or sailed with may novice sailors, some complete novices to Atlantic veterans. Always the magic is the same, it is as if a light comes on, many say "A life changing experience" a few say "never again" I remember one owner writing a piece titled "Beyond The Isle of Wight" and I look to post this next. He went from fear, to being quite an adventurous sailor.